Generic hip hop artist - the death of the internet

Yeah...
They say it's for the kids
But we see what it is...
Eyes open. Mic on.

They say, “Show us your face, hand ID at the gate,”
Claim it's for kid safety — but that line feels fake.
Every click’s now a trace, every meme's now a case,
If your joke hits a nerve, you’re erased with no grace.

Private firms hold your name, birthdate and your place,
Now that’s more than a platform — that’s a digital cage.
Can’t laugh at the crown, can't clown the elite,
Thought-police with receipts, in your DMs and tweets.

They say it’s the kids — “Protect 'em from harm,”
But Wi-Fi ain't free, it don’t grow on a farm.
You need bills, you need wires, you need names for the net,
So how's a kid gonna log on and place that bet?

No ID for my mind, no barcode for my soul,
I was born free — ain’t lettin’ Big Brother scroll.
You want safety? Then fix up the home,
Not build firewalls 'round the Google Chrome.
Keep your checks, I just wanna be me,
Let me joke, let me post, let me speak freely.
If your power breaks from a meme, it's fraud,
‘Cause a throne that can’t laugh ain’t a throne, it’s a god.

Seen porn as a kid, saw Casino too,
But love at the table gave me a better view.
Don’t blame the net — blame the structure you built,
Where families break under pressure and guilt.

Equality's the cure, not a login form,
Not tracking IPs in a digital storm.
You can ban, you can scan, you can claim you care,
But a mask on a wound still leaves it bare.

Let parents guide, not governments decide,
Don’t hand my info to some corp worldwide.
Now we diving in TOR just to dodge your law,
And the kids you “protect” see more than before.

You tighten control, and the people adapt.
Underground grows, while the white net cracks.
You can't police trauma with terms of use.
You fix the root — or the poison gets loose.

Now they gatekeep the web like it’s contraband,
Need a license to scroll? That ain’t part of the plan.
Only adults can buy it — the broadband line,
But now I need ID just to comment online?

This ain’t safety, it’s a digital wall,
Turnin’ net into prison, surveillance for all.
You scare folks off, they'll just log out and bounce,
No one gonna tag in when the cost too mounts.

This ain’t progress — it’s a silent retreat,
Where speech dies slow in a terms-of-use sheet.
The web was the voice of the voiceless crowd,
Now it’s muted by IDs just to speak out loud.

What you kill ain't just memes — it's the net itself,
An open world shrunk down and shelved.
You say it's safety, but it feels like theft,
Of the last free space that the people had left.

Anonymity ain’t the threat — it’s the shield.
Against those who forget how the truth gets revealed.
So before you ID the net like a border,
Fix the homes, fix the love, fix the order.